


Shadow of a Bleak Sun

by Kitsu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Sometimes You Get What You Wish For, but can you blame me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 18:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: Beyond the geostigma crisis, Rufus Shinra finds the time to remedy the one regret he harbours.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra & Tseng, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 29
Kudos: 93





	Shadow of a Bleak Sun

Rufus sometimes felt his shadow had always followed him around, though he knew very well it wasn’t true. Tseng’s personnel file said he had joined the Turks sometime around Rufus’s fifteenth birthday, only a handful of years older than himself. The first few years Rufus hadn’t really been aware of that particular Turk, as the rookie had been sent on different missions than the ones that involved Rufus. After his ascension to Vice President of the Shinra Company, Rufus had slowly started taking note of the raven haired Turk rising through the organization, becoming an important pawn in the game they all played. That day when he had saved the three Turks from execution, it had purely been in his own self-interest. A Turk that owed him, was a Turk most loyal. And he wanted Tseng loyal to himself only, and no one else. Not to the President, not to the company. Just to Rufus himself. 

—

Actually, he had wanted so much more than loyalty from the Turk, but  _ that year _ \- the year of chaos had held so much in store for him, and even though Tseng was his constant shadow, it had amounted to nothing more than their professional interactions. 

Then came the geostigma, the planet’s little revenge on him, and everyone else. The blackness that crept along nerves, made his body ache constantly - though he might have overplayed how far progressed his illness was  _ just a smidge _ \- the dying were so easily overlooked, giving him room to play his game. And his shadow still followed him around silently. Supported him when no one else did. Well, Tseng  _ and _ his trio of angry puppies. They all holed up in Healen Lodge, still playing their little world changing games, calling in former Shinra operatives, setting them up with new tasks and territories.

—

The rain that fallen had been chilly, refreshing - and removed the geostigma completely from him, leaving him refreshed, new. A version of him the didn’t exactly regret anything, but saw that he had to change his ways.

There was definitely one thing he was changing as soon as possible. He wanted his shadow to step into the light. 

The knock on his door revealed that the Turk was outside, no one else knocked like he did. Just a short rap, nothing more.

“Enter,” Rufus said, standing in front of the row of large windows in his room.

Tseng stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You summoned me?”   


“I did. What do you think of this day, Tseng? Wonderful, isn’t it?” Standing on his own, not being sick,  _ not pretending to be sick _ felt good. He stretched in the sunlight. 

“It is, sir,” Tseng replied.

“Don’t ‘sir’ me, Tseng. We’re alone.” Rufus hated the honorific, having always had to call his father the same. _ Father. President Shinra. Dickhead. _

“Yes.” The ‘sir’ was still implied, even unspoken. 

Rufus turned, sun at his back, sunlight reflecting off stray strands of hair. To Tseng, he might have looked like a bleak sun, shining dimly on a hazy day. Rufus would never be a bright beacon of morality, or anything that grand. But his pale skin and hair, his blue eyes - they held their own allure, and he was well aware. 

Rufus cocked his head, taking in the sight of Tseng before him. The torture at the remnants’ hands had been bad, though the wounds were quickly healing. Most of the bandages were gone, but there were still a few marks marring Tseng’s skin. “How are you feeling?”

Uncharacteristically, Tseng lifted a hand and rubbed his neck. The act alone spoke levels. “Healing up, sir.” He just couldn’t leave the honorific tag off unless he was actively trying to, speech pattern rehearsed over years upon years. 

“Your honour still feeling a bit banged up?”

“I have none such, sir. You of all should know.”

Rufus chuckled. “As long as you have more than me, there is still hope you’ll find yours again.” He waved Tseng closer, watching him move silently across the distance. “The only one without a shred of honour here is me, and you know it. All the things I’ve done, and no regrets. Well, one. I have  _ one _ regret.” 

The final comment prompted Tseng to ask, “What would that be, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Rufus straightened, a small smirk on his lips. “Only that I didn’t do this earlier.” He stepped closer, lifted his arms and tangled his fingers in Tseng’s hair, at the back of his head. He pulled, closed the distance between them, and crushed his lips the Turk’s. 

Tseng was rigid steel, an immovable rock, his reaction hard to gauge. His hands were clasped together at the small of his back, ever the professional. But there was  _ something, _ a hitch to his breathing, a flutter of eyelashes. Tseng was reacting, for sure, though he was hiding it well. All too well - Rufus wanted him to break. Pulling back, he stared at Tseng’s face, trying to read the inscrutable dark eyes. Eyes like an ocean on a calm day, the surface calm, but rip tides and currents stirring in the deep, dangerous and wild. Like Tseng himself. Rufus knew all too well Tseng’s calm, professional exterior was pretty much a masque, a pretense. A necessity in his line of work. When Tseng broke, he broke hard and messily. Tended to result in bloodshed. 

“Don’t tell me you never considered it. You’d be lying.” Rufus’ smirk grew, knowing that most people heard his name, saw his face, sometimes his wallet, and wanted him. Though Tseng had never expressed it, there had been glances, sighs - telling.

Tseng blinked, slowly. “I… I did. I do. But… Why me?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, could it be these eyes?” He ran a finger across Tseng’ cheek. “Could it be this hair?” He tangled his fingers in the long, perfect tresses. “Could it be your loyalty? Your silent stoicism? Your eyes burning a hole in the back of my head whenever you watched over me? The fact that you are still here, even though the world ended.” The last comment was a statement, not a question. “I don’t know, Tseng. Really, I don’t. You were always so close, I suppose you grew on me.”

Tseng swallowed visibly, mouth dry. His next question was, “Why now?”

“The apocalypse came, went, and we are still alive. Isn’t it reason enough? We, who deserved to suffer the most, we are still here. Let’s rejoice in nature turning a blind eye to our evils.”

Tseng stuttered, obviously unsure what to say or do. In the bright sunlight, the whole situation must’ve appeared absurd to him. 

“If you need time to consider, come back after nightfall.” Rufus hadn’t intended to let Tseng leave until he had gotten what he wanted, but Tseng seemed completely dumbfounded. 

The Turk turned on his heel, leaving quietly. Rufus sat down on his bed, chin resting in his hands. “I must’ve grown a heart.”

He got up, leaving the room, heading outside to find out if anyone in Healen had any booze for him to drown in. 

—

Apparently no one did, the little village completely dry. Instead his excursion turned into a walk. When the sun set, he retraced his steps, too slowly. It was already dark before he returned to the Shinra cabin. Slinking into his room, he found the lights turned off, only ambient lights from outside the windows outlining his furniture, but casting deeper shadows. Halting abruptly, he noticed a presence in the room, hiding in darkness. Realizing it was a familiar one, he breathed out. Ignoring it he started to undress, pretending the other wasn’t there. Jacket, vest, shirt, all were removed meticulously and placed neatly on hangers. Shoes were kicked off, socks and slacks followed suit, leaving him in his boxers. The presence changed, moved behind his back, and he still willfully ignored it. 

Not until he felt warm hands on his hips he acknowledged it, tilting his head back against 

Tseng’s naked shoulder. “You’re here,” he breathed. 

“Always here,” Tseng whispered back. 

“My shadow. My guardian.” 

Feeling Tseng’s hands slide from his hips, to underneath the band of his boxers, to wrap around him, Rufus growled. Tseng seemed as impatient as he felt. Head still tilted back against Tseng’s shoulder, he angeled it to breathe against the side of Tseng’s stern face. “Fuck me,” he rasped, loud enough for the words to fill the room, to fill their minds. It was all he wanted. No ambitions outside the room they were in, only that.

Tseng growled deep in his throat, a sound reverberating into Rufus, amplifying the shivers running down his spine. Tseng’s hands suddenly moved and Rufus found himself actually carried to the bed. He laughed - sure, his time in a wheelchair had resulted in him appearing lither, but he was still almost as tall as Tseng, all long arms and legs. He must’ve looked ridiculous, yet it got him to where he needed to be. He laughed even more when he was dumped unceremoniously onto the soft covers, almost bouncing. Above him, Tseng’s face cracked in the pale night light, something of a smile softening his features. 

“Always the romantic, Tseng.” 

“Don’t think you’re actually looking for romance, eh?”

_ True. _ Tseng knew him all too well. Though he did enjoy other people’s company, and especially Tseng’s, Rufus was a bit of a carnal beast. At least he had been in his younger days, when he had had time to play around. Time to summon that beast forth again. Seeing that Tseng was completely naked, he decided it was time he was too and shimmied out of his boxers. “Come here,” he ordered Tseng, who tentatively sat down on the edge of the bed. Still not close enough, Rufus decided, sitting up on his knees and clambering into Tseng’s lap, pushing the other man down on the bed, calves still hanging off the bed.  _ Good enough. _

Skin on skin.  _ So good _ . How he had missed it. How he had dreamt of it. Straddling Tseng, he positioned himself so their cocks were flush against each other, but willfully ignored them. Instead he took the time to study Tseng’s face, watched him slightly chew on his lower lip, eyes half closed, dark lashes obscuring everything. Such an unfamiliar expression - but one that Rufus knew to enjoy. A heady mixture of lust and apprehension. Tseng looked good when he looked like he wasn’t in control - because the control was Rufus’. He was the one setting the pace, just the way he always preferred it to be. He also knew that Tseng knew him well enough to know that was the way it had to be.  _ Convoluted. _

Leaning forward, he placed his palms flat by Tseng’s head, face hovering inches above the other’s. Saying nothing, he leaned in and ran his tongue across the lip caught between Tseng’s teeth, having him release it. Tseg craned his neck, pushing gently into the kiss, just a little bit demanding. Rufus’ arms collapsed under him, elbows bowing. He landed flat on Tseng’s torso, diving into the kiss. Arms not carrying his weight any longer, he grabbed Tseng’s hair with both hands, running fingers through it, pulling sightly. He  _ fucking loved _ the feeling of it. Loved the little twitches at the corners of Tseng’s mouth when he pulled too hard. Grabbing hold of the hair at the nape of Tseng’s neck he pulled hard enough for Tseng to have to crane his neck back, exposing a tan stretch of taut skin to Rufus’ mouth, tongue and teeth. 

Rufus’ mouth trailed downwards, finding scars, old and new. A few bruises, even a fading burn. Tonguing them all, he moved ever downward, until his mouth was hovering above Tseng’s cock, warm air between them smelling intensely of arousal. But he was almost falling off the bed, tethering on the edge. “Move,” he ordered, hands on Tseng’s hip, pushing and guiding him. As soon as his position was a little less perilous, he returned his focus to Tseng’s cock. His mouth wrapping around it earned him Tseng’s hands in his hair, careful, but insistent. He smiled, well, as widely as he could with a dick in his mouth. Moving, he ran his tongue across every spot he himself knew to feel good, sucking, licking, cajoling. Balancing himself, he freed up a hand to join in, fingers touching, caressing, stroking. He felt the fingers in his hair twitch, nails digging into skin.  _ Hngh, yes. _

Feeling Tseng tense underneath him, he backed down, slowed his hands, lifted his head. “Not quite yet,” he admonished. Tseng audibly gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Reaching between folds in the sheets they were lying on top of, Rufus fished out a bottle of lube. Uncapping it, he let it pour into his palm. A bit cold, but his skin heated it quickly. Balancing himself again, he ended up sitting on his haunches. He rubbed his palms together, coating fingers in the liquid. Staring into Tseng, he shifted his weight again, until he was on his knees, straddling Tseng’s thighs, cock flush against cock. Not touching, he instead moved his hand behind himself, fucking himself with his fingers in quick preparation. Tseng’s cock twitched hard, multiple times, strained against his own. Feeling the sting of his own fingers stretching himself open lessen, Rufus’ eyes started to closed, his breath ragged between clenched teeth. In a flash he wondered what he looked like to Tseng.  _ Fuck it, enough.  _

He wrapped his still slick palm around Tseng’s cock and gave it a few strokes. Then he moved further up along Tseng’s body, until everything was right. Tseng’s hands were on his hips, strong, dangerous. Tseng’s hard cock rested against the crack of Rufus’ ass until he lifted himself up enough for Tseng to let go of his hip and guide himself against Rufus’ entrance. Rufus pushed against, down, teeth clenched in concentration.  _ Oh fuck, so full. _ Bottoming out, he threw his head back, teeth bared in a feral expression, breathing in short, raspy breaths. 

Tseng’s hands on his hips again urged to motion, and Rufus obliged after a moment, managing to tilt forward again, fingers splayed against Tseng’s chest, the strong, steady, but quickened heartbeat beneath beating against it. He moved, in rolling waves, up and down, willing his eyes to stay open, memorizing Tseng’s face in that moment. Natural, open, almost vulnerable. Yet tense, straining. Searching for the end. Then, a smile, wickedly toothy. And a warm hand wrapping around Rufus’ cock, stroking in sync with his movements.  _ Fuckfuckfuck. Fucking heaven. _ One, two, a few more, and Rufus found himself toppled over the edge violently, collapsing against Tseng’s chest, coming hard between them, staining them both with his come. 

Breathing hard, he tried to lift himself up a bit, feeling Tseng still hard in his ass. “This is where  _ you _ fuck  _ me _ ,” he hissed - and a second later he was in Tseng’s arms, being rolled over onto his back, Tseng still inside.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Tseng growled. Mirroring Rufus’ earlier actions, he fisted Rufus’ hair with one hand, half propping himself up with the other - and he pushed. Right into a spot that made Rufus mewl. He was half hard again in moments, arms coming up to wrap around Tseng any way they could, desperate. Nails dug into Tseng’s solid back, urging him on, telling him to speed up,  _ to fucking get on with it.  _

“Impatient,” Tseng breathed against his ear.

“Always, “ he answered exasperated. “So fucking good. Keep going.  **Fuck** .”

“As you wish.” The words sounded strained, barely controlled. This was where Rufus would get to see Tseng broken. Pulling free from Tseng’s grip on his hair, a few strands fraying off in the process, Rufus locked eyes with Tseng, moving his arms, his hands to cup the other’s face. He wrapped his legs around Tseng’s waist, following Tseng’s pace, bucking up against his thrusts. Taking everything until there was no more to give. Unblinking, he watched, watched as Tseng came undone, every pretense gone from his features, leaving him raw. Fractured and broken. Primal.

_ His. _ No fucking way Rufus’ was letting go of that. Not when he had dreamed of it for, how many years had it been? Hard to tell, but Rufus’ new wish was for the planet to give him many more to explore every part of Tseng.

—

“Go again?” he worded against the chest of a half asleep Tseng.

“You trying to kill an old man?” Tseng answered, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Old, my pretty ass. You’re what, four or five years older than me? That makes you a maximum of thirty two.” Rufus tapped out his words with his fingertips against Tseng’s chest.

“That’s for me to know, and you to get pissed off about unsuccessfully trying to figure out.” A joke. From Tseng. He had to in a very good mood, post fucking. 

“I’ll start addressing you as ‘old man’ if you don’t shut up. In front of the puppy trio.” Whoops, he hadn’t meant to divulge his nickname for the rest of the Turks. 

Tseng chuckled. “Oh, stop. These old bones can’t handle more your youthful charms. So sleepy.” 

Rufus drew a few more circles on Tseng’s sweat slicked skin, grinning to himself. Tseng wasn’t leaving. He was there. His shadow beside him. Sure to tangle their limbs together as much as possible, Rufus made sure Tseng wouldn’t be able leave him during the night either. He wanted to wake up with him, to another bright, carefree day. 

To plot the rebuilding of the world,  _ and of course his company. _

Together, side by side.

—

_A bleak sun still casts_  
_deep shadows, but they become_  
_harder to hide in._

**Author's Note:**

> Three fics in three days, after many years of not writing. I'm even contemplating getting me a PS4 before March - damn you, Remake.
> 
> *All* my crazy Shinra-muses are now awake and running rampant, including Rufus. Not sure there is still an audience out there, my favourite pairings were always the slightly odd ones, but if you're there, say hi?


End file.
